


Bearing Gifts

by NPennyworth



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Hello new fandom!, Inspired by The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry, Warning: Roland, do i care that it's may? no no i don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NPennyworth/pseuds/NPennyworth
Summary: Marianne decides to get a watch chain for her fiancé, and ends up selling her hair to afford it.





	Bearing Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> After making my way though all of the Strange Magic fics on Ao3 and ff.net I have finally begun to create my own content for this fandom. I was talking with one of my friends and she said "Gift of the Magi but Butterfly Bog!" and I went "what if we made it sad" and then... this happened. So enjoy!

Marianne shook the snow off her boots as she stepped into the shop, enjoying the blast of heat from the store’s furnace.

“Can I help you?” a very bored voice drawled, and Marianne took a moment to locate the speaker. He was sitting behind the counter and focused entirely on the book in his hands, glasses perched on the end of a long nose and sharp features arranged in a scowl.

“I’m here to buy a chain for a pocketwatch,” Marianne said, and the man didn’t even look up before pointing her towards the back wall.

“You’ll find our selection there,” he said, and she frowned a little at his rudeness but didn’t let it distract her. Marianne examined the chains hanging on the back wall, eyeing them and wondering what made a good watch chain. She reached out to hold one of them and was interrupted by a snarl, making her jump and nearly knock the chain off it’s hook anyways.

“No touching.” She wheeled around to see the shopkeeper glaring at her, and refusing to be cowed she put her hands on her hips and glared back at him.

“Well, how am I supposed to tell if it’s any good?” Marianne asked, and one of his ridiculously large eyebrows rose.

“Do ye even know what yer looking for?” he asked, and Marianne didn’t let her glare waver.

“No,” she said. “But I was expecting this store to have better customer service given the reputation.” King’s Watches and Fine Jewelry was a family run business that had a storefront on Main Street for as long as Marianne could remember, although at the moment she had no idea why the store was so highly recommended.

“Try asking next time,” the man growled, unfolding himself from his chair and cracking his neck. Marianne’s eyes widened as she took in his height, absently wondering if the fellow had ever seen a stepladder since he very clearly never needed the use of one. He walked with a hunch that could have been an attempt to hide his vertically gifted stature but despite that the top of Marianne’s head only just came up to his chin.

“I’m looking for something for my fiancé,” Marianne told him, turning her attention back to the watch chains. “He has an heirloom pocket watch and I want to get him a proper chain for it.”

“Not yer usual couple gift,” the man said, scanning the rows of chains.

“I wanted to give him something useful,” Marianne shrugged. Not to mention something that she could afford, since although for Christmases past she hadn’t needed to worry about money thanks to her family’s merchant status this past year had been hard on them. Her father had recently lost a huge shipment and money would be a little tight throughout the holiday season, not enough that they would go hungry but close enough that she wasn’t buying presents for anybody else. Roland was the only person she was getting something for, and even that was because he had insisted on doing a gift exchange this year.

“Practical, then?” said Bog, holding up a dark chain for her to inspect. Marianne shook her head, thinking of how the colour wouldn’t match any of the brightly coloured green and gold suits he liked wearing.

“His watch is silver,” she said. “And very shiny. I’m the more practical one.” Marianne wasn’t even entirely certain that the watch even worked anymore, but Roland had told her about how it had been passed down through his family for three generations and how he was looking forward to passing it down to their children.

“So something like this?” the storekeeper said, holding up a different chain that shone so brightly Marianne was fairly certain that she could blind somebody with it.

“Perfect!” She said, reaching out to take it. “How much?”

“Four pounds.” Marianne snatched her hand back.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“If you want something cheaper don’t choose a silver chain,” he grumbled, hanging the chain back up.

“I’ve only got one pound,” she said, opening her purse and pulling out the coin. She wasn’t really certain she could even afford to spend that, but she could skip a few meals for Roland’s sake. “Is there a Christmas sale?”

“The prices here aren’t seasonal,” the shopkeeper said, starting to usher her out the door.

“Can I ask the owner?” she asked, trying to dodge around him without much success.

“Yeh just did,” he replied, and Marianne’s eyebrows rose. This rude man was Mr King?

“Well, then I’m shocked to find that such a rich man hasn’t a shred of decency,” she said. “Have a heart for somebody trying to buy a Christmas present for their beloved!”

“Come back when you have four pounds,” Mr King said, finally managing to shove her outside and slamming the door behind her. Marianne glared at it for a moment and kicked it, leaving a satisfyingly sizable scuff on it before she spun on her heel and walked away. She berated herself for waiting until the last moment to shop for Roland’s present, as there wouldn’t be many other stores open and she had no time to earn the full price.

_ There has to be  _ something _ I can do. _

* * *

It took Bog almost three hours to realise that the reason why no customers were coming was because it was Christmas Eve. It wasn’t really much of an event at his house, and he wasn’t even planning on going to his mother’s for Christmas dinner. After all, he’d only hear more about how he should really bring a lovely young lady over.

_ Perhaps Scrooge had a point,  _ Bog thought, closing the register and heading over to the door to lock up. Just as he was fumbling for his keys the door swung open, smacking him in the face and making him stumble back.

“Oh my gosh,” said a familiar voice, and Bog blinked in bewilderment at the young lady standing in front of him. Her eyes were rimmed with red but there was no mistaking the woman who’d been here twice before, once looking for a watch chain for her husband-to-be and once to buy the chain. He’d completed the transaction just yesterday, glad to take the money and hand over the chain to be rid of her and her wedded bliss. In his opinion, young love was perhaps the most disgusting of sentiments, nothing but sugar coated lies and empty promises.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “Did I-”

“What,” Bog said, holding his nose and hoping that it wasn’t bleeding, “are you doing here?”

“I’m… I’ve got a return,” she said, holding up the previously coveted watch chain. Bog stared at her and realized that her eyes were bloodshot and her hands were shaking, her voice raw with anger lurking under it’s surface.  _ That was quick,  _ he thought, with an unexpected wave of sympathy. He was no stranger to heartbreak, and although he gladly mocked young couples he would never wish that pain on anybody else.

“I’m sorry,” he said before he could stop himself, and the woman glared at him.

“For what?” she said, and Bog quickly turned away and headed to the register, busying himself with opening it.

“I’ll give you the full refund,” he said, and her glare didn’t abate as she stomped over to the register.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said, and Bog looked back up at her to see her eyes shining with anger. He couldn’t help but notice they were also a shade of golden brown that he’d never seen before, almost resembling a piece of amber.

He realised that he’d been staring and quickly looked away, wondering what was wrong with him. “It’s not pity,” he said, sliding the money back to her across the counter. She didn’t say anything and he risked a glance back at her eyes, noticing they were now brimming with tears as she stared at the pile of money on the counter.

“I was engaged once,” Bog said quickly, and she looked back up at him in surprise. “She didn’t… she left me at the altar. She loved somebody else.”  _ She never loved me  _ hung in the air, unspoken but understood. The woman’s expression softened and she thrust out her hand, and it took Bog a moment to realize that she wasn’t taking the money but rather waiting for a handshake. He quickly shook her hand before snatching his hand back.

“Marianne Fairfield,” she said.

“Bog King,” he replied, and Marianne raised an eyebrow at his name but didn’t comment.

“I’m glad that you’re still open,” she said, and Bog nodded.

“I don’t really do much for Christmas,” he said. “It’s just me and my mother.” He winced at how pathetic it sounded, and then wondered why he cared what Marianne thought of him.

“Lucky,” Marianne said. “My dad’s going to be asking a lot of questions about the engagement, and they’re going to be so disappointed.”

“You broke it off?” he said, and Marianne smiled humorlessly.

“You know how I needed more money for the watch chain?” she said. “I sold my hair for it. The hairdresser down the street, Plum, cut it and paid me, and I bought the chain. I was so excited to give it to him, and when I got home…” she swallowed, her hand going up to her head. “He wasn’t impressed with the haircut. I can’t believe I was going to  _ marry  _ him, that misogynistic, condescending, lying son of a-”

“Whoa,” Bog said, holding out his hands to stop her. Marianne collected herself and continued.

“So yeah, he’s not my fiancé anymore.” Marianne’s hand went to her hand, rubbing the space on her fourth finger.

“Good for you,” Bog said, and she looked up at him, surprise flashing across her face. “You don’t need that in yer life.”

“You know what?” Marianne said with a grin. “You’re right, I don’t. Love’s  _ horrible. _ ”

“It’s all a lie.”

“Brings you nothing but pain!”

“A waste of yer time!”

“Exactly,” Marianne finished with a nod, and it took Bog a moment to realize that his cheeks were sore because he had a huge grin plastered on his face. He swallowed and looked away, fiddling with the chain on the counter as he desperately cast about for another topic of conversation.

“So… new haircut?” he said, gesturing to her head.

"It's terrible," Marianne said, her hand tugging down her veil.

"Can't be much worse than what I see in the mirror," Bog said with a humorless smile, and she gawked at him.

"What?"

"Ah mean... you know," Bog said, gesturing to himself and ignoring the old echo of pain he felt. "Hideous."

"You're not hideous," Marianne said, her words quiet but genuine. Bog stared at her like she had just proclaimed that she could turn into a cat, and in a sense she’d said something just as shocking. “Well, you're not,” she said, blushing and looking away.

She took a deep breath and then appeared to come to some sort of decision, as with one gesture she pulled off the veil. Her hair was trimmed close to her skull, brown locks beginning to frame her face in curls. Bog was speechless, thinking only  _ why would she even bother with the veil. _

"It was a mistake, I know," Marianne said, not meeting his eyes and beginning to pull the veil back on.

"What?" Bog snorted, stopping her movements. "Doing something for the one you love? That's not a mistake, and if he rejected you then he's an idiot. You're bloody gorgeous."

Marianne’s gaze snapped to him and Bog flushed, realizing what he’d just said.  _ You idiot,  _ he chastised himself, staring at her and wondering if she would slap him or simply walk away.

"You think so?" Marianne said, her hand going up to stroke her hair as she gave him a small smile, which was certainly not the reaction he’d been bracing himself for.

"I... ah, yes?" Bog said cautiously, feeling a little like he was floundering in a lake and just managing to keep his head above the water. He had no idea how he was supposed to act around a woman, and certainly not a woman like this beautiful spitfire who definitely didn’t deserve to be rejected by love the way he did.

"Thank you," she said, reaching out over the counter and grabbing one of Bog's hands. For a full moment he couldn’t breathe at the weight of her hand in his, the silken feeling of her skin, the warmth of her fingers as she gently squeezed his hand. "Really, it means a lot."

Bog nervously swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, cautiously squeezing her hand back.  _ This doesn’t mean anything, don’t be an idiot.  _ But before he could stop himself the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Would ye like to have Christmas dinner at my place?" he asked, and Marianne looked shocked for a moment that felt like an eternity, long enough for him to feel the swooping of his stomach as he berated himself and began to withdraw his hand, cursing himself for being foolish enough to expose his heart like this again.

"I would love to," she said, her fingers gripping onto his hand even tighter and not letting him let go. Her entire face lit up from her joyful smile and Bog returned it, thanking every star he could think of that of all the shops on Main Street she’d decided to walk into his.

**Author's Note:**

> And then next Christmas everybody else was shopping for wedding gifts for them!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are appreciated, I need fandom friends for Strange Magic because nobody really understands why I love this movie so much (including me).


End file.
